


Dangerous Weather

by Magichorse



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Don't Kill Your Double, Doubles, Episode: e019 The Sandstorm, Eventual Smut, Human Anatomy, Light Physical Violence, M/M, Sexual Content, Some Fluff, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3105914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magichorse/pseuds/Magichorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos defeats his evil double during the first sandstorm and his double promises revenge. When Desert Bluffs Carlos returns during the next bout of bad weather, it's to Cecil's house with the intent to seduce and kill him to get back at Carlos. Nothing goes as anybody plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble Arrives

Carlos carefully kept the table between himself and the man who wore his face.

The lookalike had materialized suddenly in his peripheral vision as he pored over some equations, and when their eyes met, it had lunged at him. Carlos had been able to react quickly enough to dodge the first attack, but had no easy way to escape the small lab. And so they circled, slowly.

“My, but we _do_ look alike,” grinned the man who was not Carlos as he looked him slowly up and down. A wide smile had yet to be absent from his face.

“It is scientifically intriguing,” Carlos allowed.

Not-Carlos dashed to one side and Carlos fled opposite to keep the ends of the table between them.

“Alert, too,” Not-Carlos observed with appreciation.

“A scientist is always alert.”

“A _sciiiiiiiiientist!_ ” His double drew the word out with obvious pleasure, “I’m a scientist, too. Dr. Juan Carlos Huerta, political scientist, at your service.”

Carlos grimaced. He detested the social sciences. The man looked the opposite of science. He wore his long hair loose about his shoulders and a dark gray designer suit that clung to the contuors of his body. He appeared to lack none of the physique Carlos had obtained through years of fieldwork in harsh climates and that made Carlos uneasy. He wasn’t sure of his chances at taking himself on in close combat if it came to it.

Juan Carlos feinted left and as Carlos began to scramble back along the length of the table, he planted a foot on the stainless steel surface and vaulted over. Carlos stared, frozen, as his double came crashing into him, fingers grasping for his throat.

They slammed into the ground and Carlos’s glasses and phone went flying. The two men scuffled on the floor of the lab, wrestling and struggling. They were evenly matched in size and strength but Juan Carlos fought with singular, deadly intent. Survival instincts screaming, Carlos was managing to keep those demonically strong hands from his neck but for how long, he wondered desperately.

Suddenly, an electronic melody burst into the air around them. Carlos’s phone lit up with Cecil’s picture as a call came through. In the moment’s worth of distraction Carlos leveraged the man off of him and rolled to his feet. He scooped up his ringing phone, gave a vicious kick to Juan Carlos’s gut, and took the call.

“Hi,” he panted.

“Carlos!” Cecil shouted into the phone, panicked, “Carlos, the sandstorm! The studio is glowing—I need to warn you. There are doubles appearing, they may try to kill you. You need to--!”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Carlos huffed, still catching his breath. He couldn’t believe the radio host knew this would happen and hadn’t warned him earlier, though, Cecil did seem pretty spooked. Perhaps this wasn’t one of those regular Night Vale occurrences like killer librarians or deadly wheat which he never seemed to get the town-wide memo on.

“You listened to my show?” Cecil said hopefully, eagerness replacing the fear almost comically fast.

“No, just scientific observation,” said Carlos drily. 

“Who’s that?” croaked Juan Carlos from the floor, smiling through the obvious pain, “Your _boyfriend_?”

“Shut up,” Carlos hissed down at him.

“Carlos,” Cecil was serious again, “I have to go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. I think it’s imperative that you not kill your double if you meet. And…maybe if we survive this experience, and if our space and time meet again, you’d like to go out for coffee or dinner or…”

“No.” Carlos snapped, full of nerves, and regretted it. “No, but be careful, okay?”

“You be careful, too,” he heard softly before the call ended.

Juan Carlos was showing signs of recovery so Carlos kicked him again and bound him up on the floor for good measure. Eventually, his double’s breath came evenly once more and he squinted up at Carlos, who was standing watch over him.

“Cute boyfriend,” smiled Juan Carlos from the ground. “Saw his picture flash on your phone.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just some man who’s obsessed with me and tries to distract me from my work.”

“I’d let that man distract me from my work _any day_ , if he’s got a body to match that face.”

“Oh, he does, and you’re not getting it,” replied Carlos testily without thinking.

“Hah!” His double wheezed out a laugh. “Jealous?”

Carlos kept his mouth shut. He didn’t need to speak to this creep.

“Best make a claim, Carlos, because I will be back some day and there is more than one way to settle a score.”

The last Carlos saw of his double before the wind outside subsided, and he disappeared as suddenly as he’d come, was that terrifying grin.

He leaned back against the lab table in the pervading silence to steady himself as the adrenaline seeped from his muscles, feeling definitively shaken. He didn’t know what kind of tear in space had allowed that monster through, but he prayed to the holy mother that it would never happen again.


	2. Imposter

Cecil answered the doorbell to find a tall man standing on his porch. The stranger wore a lab coat over tidy shirt and khakis. He had dark, perfect skin, beautiful hair tied in a low ponytail, and strong white teeth. Yet, Cecil knew, like he knew his own name, that it was not Carlos. A super model in a lab coat, to be sure, but not Carlos.

Not-Carlos gave him a shy smile and a casual ‘Hey’ and Cecil smiled out of reflex. Things with real Carlos had been steadily improving—or, well, Carlos had never agreed to meet with him about anything outside of science, but he did call him to chat about his discoveries more often than not nowadays. That was progress, right?

“Mr. Scientist!” He stood aside and gestured the stranger into his house, deciding to play along. “Please come in, you should not have left your lab in these conditions.” 

“Thank you,” the man said, sounding relieved. “I was out doing science in Mission Grove Park when the wind picked up—your place was the closest. I didn’t know we were in for any government-controlled weather patterns today.”

“You’re still new in town, you’ll get a feel for the schedule eventually. Now please, come sit. I’ll put hot water on. I’ve got the loveliest fungus infusion tea.” He withdrew to the kitchen but watched the fake scientist unobserved through the open door while the water heated. 

The man did not appear to be an apparition or a demon or some other unholy being. Cecil didn’t get the feeling his Carlos had been possessed and piloted over here. No, if he had to guess, and he didn’t like guessing where spirit possessions might be concerned, he would say this was Carlos’s malevolent double from the last unfortunate storm. He hadn’t gotten any reports that today’s weather would contain the same dimensional rift, but it was possible if the double were actively looking for a way into this time and place, he might have used this storm to create his own entrance. The question was, why was he actively imitating Carlos of Night Vale?

The kettle whistled and he prepared two cups. He found Not-Carlos sitting on the large turquoise sofa thumbing through his coffee table book of vintage Western movie posters. The stranger accepted the drink politely and rewarded him with a smile from Carlos’s face. Cecil found him quite fascinating.

“Learn anything new in Mission Grove Park?” he asked as he settled back onto the couch.

“Oh, no, the sand started up right as I got there,” he said with a shake of his head like he could hardly believe his bad luck.

“Oh, that’s a shame!”

“It is a shame, about the science, but if I hadn’t gone out there I wouldn’t have ended up here with you.”

Cecil got to witness what a blush looked like on Carlos’s perfect dark complexion. The man might be playing a part, but he played it well.

“With…me?” asked Cecil slowly.

“Yes, Cecil, I…” the man looked at his cup shyly, “You know I like you, right?”

How cruel, thought Cecil, to be treated to just the words he wanted to hear in just the right voice from just the wrong person. Yet, he wanted to see more. It wasn’t so terrible to want that, was it?

“Carlos,” he began, “I, I had only hoped…”

He didn’t get very far before the man who was not Carlos leaned in and pressed those perfect lips to his. 

Cecil made some sort of surprised sound but did not pull away. No, he thought to himself as he relaxed into the kiss, this was not so terrible at all. The stranger gently removed the mug from his hand and set it down before taking the hand again in his own.

“Was that okay?” he asked with all of Carlos’s concern, squeezing his hand lightly.

“Oh, yes,” said Cecil, “Quite okay.”

“Good, because I want to do it again.”

Cecil pursed his lips, made a decision, and answered:

“Please.”

That was all the invitation the other man needed. His mouth was back on Cecil’s instantly, kissing him long and hard and gasping sweetly against his lips when he breathed. Cecil ran his hand back along that strong jaw and threaded his fingers in that lush, thick hair. Oh, if it didn’t feel just as good as he imagined it would!

The man who was not Carlos leaned over him, steadied himself with a hand against his waist and began to plant kisses down his neck and Cecil wondered absently, distantly, just how far he should let this go. If the real Carlos wouldn’t so much as call him for personal reasons and his beautiful double was interested in filling that gap for one night, what harm could it do?

The double bit him suddenly, hard, and he flinched in surprise.

There was the harm. Beneath the lust and the façade that was quickly burning in its wake, a murderous intent was beginning to reveal itself. Cecil smiled as the stranger kissed the reddening spot softly. He knew the game now. Two could play this one.

“You like that?” murmured the double to the skin of his throat.

“ _Yes_ ,” Cecil hissed, dragging him back up by his beautiful hair and kissing him deeply, employing his teeth and tongue.

The other man moaned into his mouth with genuine delight and kissed back with equal intensity. The hand that had traveled to his waist came up to grasp his shirt and hastily began to undo the buttons. He pulled the shirt from Cecil’s waistband and threw it open to bare more skin, glancing down with open appreciation. He dragged his fingernails lightly over Cecil's chest, watching the skin tighten before digging in harder and drawing raised red tracks. Cecil inhaled sharply but did not shy from the pain. He couldn’t say he didn’t like it. Living in Night Vale, he knew, you sometimes had to shed a little blood for what you wanted.

He watched the stranger’s head duck back down, kissing along his collarbone and starting downward. He knew that as satisfying as this was in the moment, he was going to have to clear his head at some point to strike before he was struck. But perhaps he could wait a little longer, just to see where that mouth was-- _fuck!_

Cecil gasped loudly as a hot mouth and perfect lips found one of his nipples and bit down. He arched his back at the sensation to bring their bodies closer. Fuck everything. He’d defend himself when the attack came. For now, _gods_ , he was just going to enjoy this.


	3. Carlos Arrives

Carlos the scientist frowned at the sand gusting past the laboratory window. Ever since his first Night Vale sandstorm even dust devils had made him uneasy and here he was again, alone in the lab while sand obscured the midday sun. He had turned on every light to eliminate any shadows where imposter scientists could lurk but he twitched at every noise. The radio had been playing weather for hours. He wondered where Cecil was now.

He picked up his phone, looked, no service.

He paced.

Was Cecil okay?

Last time, he knew, the radio host had been taken to a nightmarish alternate studio. He would bet anything his terrifying double had come from the same place. What horrid things were going to happen this time? This was Night Vale, after all. Weather could never just be weather.

He weighed his options. Sandstorms were dangerous, but he figured anything was better than sitting alone, jumping at shadows. He didn’t need to think too hard about where he wanted to go. Cecil really was his only friend in town at this point. And maybe, he could admit to himself, it would be nice to see him somewhere outside of their Moonlite All-Nite meetings.

Carlos threw on his sturdiest lab coat, tied a scarf around his mouth and adjusted some goggles over his eyes. The wind outside was as intense as it sounded inside, and he fought his way to his car with some difficulty, but once he shut himself in he felt confident driving the short distance to Cecil’s place.

When he arrived he struggled up to the porch and wasted no time with knocking, opting to grasp straight for the handle and let himself inside. He was relieved to find it unlocked. Cecil would forgive him for getting out of the dangerous weather as quickly as possible.

He found himself in a sort of front hallway painted in desert tans and blues with a simple electric chandelier overhead and pegs along the wall for coats and keys. He removed his scarf and goggles and gave himself a firm shake to dislodge as much sand as possible. He ran a hand self-consciously through his hair and readjusted his ponytail which had come loose in the storm. He was disappointed to find no mirror but knew there was little he could do to appear unappealing to Cecil anyhow. He was sweet that way, Carlos thought to himself.

After one more cursory glance around, he moved deeper into the house and called Cecil’s name aloud, sheepishly. It was hard to believe that this was the way he was finally seeing his home.

“Cecil?” he asked a little louder, approaching a doorway. The wind howled through the walls, drowning out his words. 

He peered around the corner, looking for the living room, and then recoiled, blushing furiously. Jesus Christ! Emotions as strong and fast as the storm outside invaded his chest. Cecil was on the couch with another man on top of him! 

He thought perhaps he should go, and fast, but before he could retreat down the hallway, something about the scene he had glimpsed gave him pause. Something was not right. He willed himself to peer cautiously back around the corner at the two men entwined passionately on the couch. He was thankfully obscured by an elegant table supporting a statue of some foreign god. He looked long and hard at the two figures, uncomprehending.

It was, somehow, himself on top of Cecil! Except that he would never--! Well, he would if given the chance but, how--?

He stopped thinking and just stared, transfixed by the image of his own hands roaming under Cecil’s open shirt. He watched his clothed hips rolling against Cecil’s in an unconscious rhythm, imagined the heat and feel of being close to Cecil that way. He watched as one of his hands slid down between their two bodies with intention and gave the fabric at Cecil’s crotch a solid squeeze.

Gods, the sound he made! Cecil moaned audibly through softly parted lips and strained upwards at the touch. The man who looked like him leaned forward, whispered something in Cecil’s ear, and squeezed him again. Carlos’s mouth went dry. Ever so slowly that hand slid up to the fly of Cecil’s pants and began to undo the buttons.

Carlos must have made a small strangled sound because the man on top of Cecil turned his head smoothly against Cecil’s neck to peer at him around the obsidian sides of the obscuring statue. Their eyes met and the arousal that had been building within him drained like the color from his face as the man gave him a wide, wicked grin.

All the pieces fell together instantly and Carlos fought down a rising wave of panic. He knew exactly what those hands caressing Cecil were capable of. Hadn’t Juan Carlos promised to return? Before he could so much as open his mouth to give warning both hands were darting toward Cecil’s throat…

...only to be intercepted smoothly by Cecil himself.

“Guess our date’s over, friend,” said Cecil coldly, forcing Juan Carlos’s wrists together and taking a shoulder to the chest as the fake scientist fell off balance with a snarl. With surprisingly little effort he got him turned into a restraining hold, hands locked behind his back. “Shame you couldn’t have held off your bloodlust just a little longer. We might have both enjoyed ourselves a little bit.”

“Cecil!” Carlos finally found his voice and called out to him, dashing into the room to help.

“Carlos?!”


	4. Revelation

Cecil could never have imagined, even in his most vivid nightmares, that there would be an instance in which the sight of Carlos would make him freeze in horror.

The scientist came rushing up to stand over the both of them, hands at the ready.

“Tell me how I can help,” said Carlos, endearingly poised in a crisis situation.

“How sweet,” cooed Juan Carlos even as he tried to wrench himself out of the restraining hold, “I could use a little help getting pretty-boy here off of me.”

“Not you, monster,” Carlos scowled darkly at his double.

“Open the front door,” said Cecil, nodding his head back to the hallway.

“You’re going to throw me back out in that storm?” whined Juan Carlos.

“A murderous fiend like you?” said Cecil incredulously, “No, I’m going to hand you over to the police who will lock you away somewhere bottomless, I hope.”

Carlos went and did as he was told with only one skeptical look back and did indeed find two members of the Sheriff’s Secret Police already on the doorstep, just as Cecil had predicted. He gave them a quizzical look.

“Our surveillance equipment picked up a struggle,” said one of them simply.

Cecil handed off Juan Carlos to the police.

“Cecil,” he said in parting, “It was…a pleasure. And Carlos, we will meet again.”

Neither of the two men addressed had any more to say, just watched the man who was not Carlos taken away for what they hoped was good and all. Once they were alone, they looked at one another and Cecil tried to read the look on Carlos’s face. 

“Why don’t you have a seat,” said Cecil at last, “We should probably talk. I’ll be right back.”

Carlos nodded and sat down on the turquoise couch. Cecil left, washed his face, re-did the buttons on his shirt, figured he looked presentable enough, and returned carrying two glasses of water. He handed one to Carlos who took it gratefully, and sank down next to him with a soft sigh. 

He couldn’t believe Carlos had seen him like that. He felt exposed, and worse, he felt like he had violated Carlos’s privacy somehow. 

“So, um,” Carlos pursed those perfect lips and looked at him with dark, gorgeous eyes, “You thought that guy was me?”

Cecil tried not to make a sound as those words stabbed his heart. If he said yes, proclaimed ignorance, his mistake was pardonable. If he told the truth…well, he just looked pathetic, maybe worse. He took a deep breath.

“No,” he said, amazed that his voice didn’t tremble, “He may have looked like you, and he tried to act like you, but I knew he wasn’t. I engaged with him knowing that, but Carlos, please understand…”

“Oh, thank god,” Carlos cut him off, exhaling in relief, “If he had tricked you and anything had happened to you I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“…Forgive yourself?” Cecil asked, surprised, “Carlos, why would you feel responsible for the actions of your malicious double?”

“Oh…” Carlos ran a hand through his hair and looked at things that weren’t Cecil’s face, “The first time, when we fought, after I overpowered him he promised revenge and he hinted…well, he hinted he might come after you to get back at me.”

Cecil could hardly believe it but he was certain that Carlos was blushing back down at his cup. His palms were sweating and his heart seemed too loud, but he had to ask.

“Carlos, why would he come after me to get back at you?”

Carlos straightened his shoulders with some apparent difficulty, made eye contact once more, started to speak, hesitated, set his jaw.

“Cecil, I…you know I like you, right?”

Time seemed to stand still as that admission hung in the air. 

“And I’m so sorry,” Carlos continued in a rush, “I couldn’t find a way to warn you when I couldn’t even find a way to have a conversation with you that didn’t center around science. What would you have thought of me then?”

“Carlos, I’ve been asking you on dates for the better part of a year!” Cecil exclaimed, but he was smiling with relief now, almost laughing.

“Gods, I know!” said Carlos, breaking into a smile himself.

“But what must you think of me, having seen me with your double? “ Cecil asked anxiously. 

“Oh that, I, um,” Carlos began, definitely blushing now, “It wasn’t so much like seeing you with someone else as it was like experiencing a day dream. That is to say, scientifically, it was a surreal yet not unpleasant optical illusion, which is…I was enjoying the image of myself doing…what my double was doing to you.”

By now Carlos absolutely refused to look at him and all Cecil could do was stare at him. His pulse was climbing back up again. Cecil made a decision.

With a steady hand he reached out to caress the side of Carlos’s face, turning it toward him as he did so and leaning in close to look him in the eyes. His lips tingled with desire but he made no move to close the small distance between them, just waited, patiently, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

Carlos let the silence stretch, and then, slowly, mirroring Cecil’s movements, cupped one hand against his jaw and brought him in for a gentle kiss.

Cecil felt himself blushing now as Carlos pulled away to look at him.

“Gods, I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said, smiling, hand still tenderly on Cecil’s face, “Let’s do it again.”

“Please,” said Cecil, pulling him close.


	5. Resolution

Kissing Cecil felt just as good as Carlos had imagined it would, and he had imagined it quite frequently. His mind was usually taken up by scientific inquiry, but in between he was unable to ignore the fact that his body liked men and his heart liked Cecil and it had been increasingly difficult to keep his coffee conversations with the man neutral. And now, here he was on Cecil’s couch after a trying afternoon, kissing him tenderly but with an energy beginning to build between them. It seemed their bodies had not forgotten what they were denied earlier that same day.

Hands began to wander down sides and across shoulders, exploring contours hidden by clothing. His mind’s eye flashed back to the scene he had walked in on earlier, and the image of Cecil writhing beneath his hands, and he moaned softly against Cecil’s lips as a jolt of desire went through him. Cecil's hand in his hair tightened in response.

He could feel his breathing grow heavier and his skin tingle alive with nerves. It had been a while since he had been close to someone like this, and he found he had little interest in tempering his desire. If he could judge by the way Cecil was responding to his touch, he would say they were on the same page.

He broke their kiss to place a hand on Cecil’s chest and slowly push him back into the couch cushions. Cecil did not resist, and when Carlos slid one knee up firmly between his thighs, Cecil raised his hips with no hesitation. When their bodies came together, the scientist had no words to describe the feeling.

“Carlos,” said Cecil breathily, shifting alluringly beneath him, “Are you sure you want this?”

“I want you,” he said, and he meant it. “In every sense of the word, though, right now,” he laughed a little helplessly, “I want you more one way than another.”

“Nnnngh, and how’s that?” smiled Cecil coyly, wrapping his hand in Carlos’s ponytail and pulling him down close.

“I want my name on your lips as you come by my hand.”

“Ooooh,” shuddered Cecil and kissed him before whispering, “I like that idea.”

Faster than Carlos could process in his clouded state of mind, Cecil’s hand was at the button of his jeans, undoing it with no trouble and pulling down his zipper. Before he could so much as gasp, that slender hand had gotten between the rough fabric of his pants and the soft cotton of his briefs and grasped him firmly through the thin layer.

“Shit,” he swore appreciatively, lost in the sensation of Cecil exploring the length of him in his pants where he was trapped and aching.

Cecil seemed to have just as little interest in taking things slow right now as he did. His hand climbed up the elastic band of his briefs and yanked it down, employing his other hand to tug the jeans midway down his thighs. Freed from his pants, his heavy cock swung down between them.

“Perfect,” murmured Cecil with a tone of deepest appreciation as he grasped him hard in one fist, swiped a thumb over the moisture that had already beaded at the tip, and began to stroke. “You’re so perfect, Carlos.”

Carlos had no answer to that, only scrambled while he still could produce a coherent thought to get into Cecil’s pants in turn. There was no slow exploration, no gentle squeeze, only a series of buttons torn roughly open, fabric pushed aside and his hand pulling Cecil out into the hot space between their bodies and taking him in hand. He felt perfect, too.

The image and sensation of them jerking each other off was amazingly hot. He brought their mouths back together desperately as he stroked his partner, thrusting his own hips into the slick hand wrapped around him. He was so close, so close, so close…

Cecil came before he did, filling his hand and calling his name just as he had wanted. Hearing his own name pronounced in such ecstasy pushed him over the edge as well, and he came to the image of stars searing through his field of vision. It took them both a minute to come back to reality and settle into a comfortable stillness.

Carlos drifted back into himself and his logical mind began to shift back into control. Haze of lust gone, he felt exposed, and quickly tucked himself back into his pants and looked a little mortified at his wanton behavior. Cecil laughed softly, kissed him, rearranged his own clothing and went to grab a hand towel to clean them both up.

Carlos revisited his abandoned water on the table and looked at Cecil returning over the rim, thinking. A warm feeling was settling in his chest, despite his misgivings about the fact that he barely knew this man for all they had shared over the better part of a year up to and including this moment. He thought long and hard while Cecil watched him think, before placing a hand on the other man’s knee. He got a brilliant smile and a head nestled up to his shoulder for his effort. 

“So…” he said, finding Cecil’s hand with his own and threading their fingers together, “Would you like to go on a date some time?”

“Oh, decisions!” Cecil laughed, “I’ve had so many men like you knocking down my door today. Yet I get the feeling somehow you, Carlos, are truly without equal.”

“So, is that a yes?” Carlos teased.

“Yes,” said Cecil.

The two of them listened to the sand whisper along the sides of the house and make the walls creak with every gust. With no need or desire to leave the couch that evening, they settled in to one another in an unspoken arrangement, exhausted from the events of the day and grateful for the peace settling over them.

Weather in Night Vale sure was dangerous, Carlos reflected with his cheek pressed to the top of Cecil’s head, but if one could get through it alive, the rewards were pretty sweet.

 

**Epilogue:**

That night, beneath Town Hall, levels below the re-education chambers in the deep where things and people were queued to be erased from public memory, a man with Carlos’s face paced a narrow cell. In the thinnest hours of the morning, with the sand settling down from the storm in banks and billows around the town, he vanished. On the stone floor they found a business card, neon yellow, which read: Juan Carlos Huerta, Doctor of Political Science, StrexCorp Synernists, Inc., and on the back scrawled in dark ink: _‘Very soon, Night Vale.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! There are likely a lot of iterations of this same story floating around, but the idea just wouldn't leave me alone and I had a lot of time on my hands for winter break. It ended a little fluffier than I intended. This was my first time writing smut, and well, I will leave it up to you all to determine whether I did a good job or not!
> 
> I left the door open with the Epilogue for a sequel, since I actually like the plot device of Juan Carlos quite a bit and wouldn't mind bringing him back again, the malicious little thing. Sadly, the point of this story was not to develop him as a character, haha. The point of this story was smut.
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> Minor edits 2/14/15


End file.
